


Hüzün

by Pandolphin



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Gen, Slight Canon Divergence, father/son depression solidarity time, featuring guest appearances by a whole lot of headcanons and one (1) soundcloud rapper, this was written pre-kh3 so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 08:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17321657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandolphin/pseuds/Pandolphin
Summary: (turkish, n.) - a melancholy resulting from inadequacy or failure and weighing so heavily that it becomes communal, resigned, and even curiously poetic[written for a word prompt meme]





	Hüzün

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like i lost the actual definition of the word somewhere in the translation to fic process, but ienzo has his favorite dad's support and that's what counts
> 
> ALSO THIS WAS. written before kh3 came out so there are parts based on the initial trailer speculations. not sure if that makes this canon divergent/canon compliant or not but you'll know what those parts are when you see them kjhghh

When Ienzo came into the castle’s kitchens, still littered with debris but clean enough to function again, he saw Even pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Good morning, Even.”

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary; Even’s terrible habit of working long hours hadn’t been lost on Vexen, and with the Organization’s world being trapped in a perpetual state of night, time lost whatever vague relativity it had for them in the first place. Watching one of his guardians abuse his daily caffeine intake was just rudimentary by this point, and Even knew that as well as Ienzo did--so much so that he did not acknowledge Ienzo with more than a simple nod, hand over his mouth mid-yawn.

“Are you sure you should be having that much so soon?” Ienzo spoke with a quiet amusement, but with fair concern. It’d been troubling to have Even and Dilan bedridden for so long, but Even forcing himself to stay awake wasn’t going to do anybody any favors. Least of all him. But Even acknowledged the worry with a slight shrug, and a sigh.

“It’s not ideal, I admit. But I don’t think I could stand staying as lax as I was for much longer, either. Far too still--you understand.”

“Mmn.” Ienzo did, in fact, understand. And despite the context clues, Even knew his limits, that he was in no condition to work himself ragged, so he supposed it was alright. And to that end… “Would you pour me a cup, as well?”

“You’ll stunt your growth, child.”

Ienzo was hardly a child anymore, but even he could feel the way his face scrunched up like one. “You and I both know that’s just a myth,” he paused a beat, and added, “And we’re almost the same height, anyway.”

Even gave him a silent, curious look--and if Ienzo didn’t know better, he’d say Even looked puzzled, almost alarmed, by his retort--but he was quick to relent after a brief debate with himself. “A fair point. Here, take this mug.”

“Thank you.” And so he did.

While Even retrieved another mug for himself, Ienzo cleared off a space at the kitchen’s island table. It was much easier now than it had been, only now needing some dust cleared off the counter and chairs, but Even had been right about one thing--keeping busy was helping.

Speaking of which, behind him, Even chuckled to himself. “Strange.”

“What is?”

When Ienzo turned around, he saw Even glancing out a kitchen window. The view fell upon one of the many castle gardens--renewed of life, thanks to the efforts of Aeleus and a young lady from the restoration efforts--and Even looked out on it with a face that betrayed both nostalgia and self-deprecation.

“I never thought I’d be so glad to see flowers again.”

Ienzo followed suit, with a smile and a sigh, as he took his seat at the table. It wasn’t a very difficult double meaning to deduce. “He _did_ have that effect on people.”

“To put it mildly.” A pause followed, and then Even managed to pry himself away from the window, new mug in hand. “Well--never mind that for now. There’ll be time to reminisce later.”

“Is that what we’re calling it, now?”

“If only to keep the all-consuming resentment at bay.”

He’d said it casually enough, and Ienzo couldn’t deny that Even was more composed than Vexen was, but there was enough lingering distaste in all their mouths at the mere mention of Castle Oblivion that he couldn’t imagine that as just a simple hyperbole.

Well, if nothing else, small victory that Marluxia wasn’t from around here, at least.

Even took a seat at the table, stifling back another yawn. “I trust cleanup has been going… as smoothly as possible.”

It was meant to be a statement, but he’d left his tone hesitant enough where it could have been heard as a question. Ienzo took a sip of coffee, and answered. “As well as can be expected, I would think. The Restoration Committee really did most of the heavy lifting, before our arrival.”

“The gardens notwithstanding.”

“A matter of priorities. As I understand it, their first objective with the castle was to forge a way into the study. Aesthetics could wait.”

Even brought a hand to his chin, deep in sudden thought. “Understandable. There’s an abundance of valuable information and resources about the town here. Accessing that would have only benefited the restoration process.”

“If anything, it’s a testament to Lord Ansem’s coding that Tron had still been operational all these years.” Granted, they had used the MCP to power the laboratory in the short time before the world’s fall, but that hardly meant computers were infallible. Even didn’t seem too surprised by that, though.

“Mm. It would take more than the apocalypse to stop the processes on that piece of hardware, I can assure you that.”

The tone of that sentence gave Ienzo the impression there was a story behind the computer--highly probable, there was still much about the castle’s lore he hadn’t known when he came here as a boy--but when he thought to ask for clarification, he was distracted by the more sullen expression that had come across Even’s face. It was a face Ienzo knew well at this point, one that had much more to say and ask, but withheld its comments for reasons unknown.

But a scientist wasn’t exactly known for a lack of curiosity, mind you. “Is something wrong?”

Even paused, and breathed in deep. It wasn’t very often that he seemed a loss for words, and this was not that, but rather, he was choosing those words carefully. In retrospect, that was something else that perhaps Vexen might have benefited more from.

“Before I came here, I stopped by the study. Just to check on things.” Even paused again, and then added, “I saw the portrait had been covered.”

“Ah.”

It would only have been a matter of time before it was noticed. Ienzo knew that. Aeleus, no doubt, had seen it already, and kept quiet, as was his nature, but just the same it was in Even’s nature to question, and to fret. Ienzo knew that as well. Still… that didn’t mean he was necessarily prepared with an answer for his actions.

When he was a child, he had shown extraordinary talent in conjuring illusions. Master Ansem had been delighted (if not concerned, over why Ienzo would have developed that skill to begin with), and part of his rearing in the castle had been to better understand and control this magic of his. As a test of his growing skill, Ienzo had turned that portrait--once a portrait of the true Ansem the Wise, into one of the man they knew as Xehanort. 

It had been a perfect enchantment for one so young to produce, but inexperience left Ienzo unable to revert the painting back to its original state. For the short while there had been seven people in the castle, it had been something of a joke among his guardians, a tease for Ienzo to pout and have his hair ruffled over. And despite all odds, it had stayed transformed for all these years.

Now that he was older, Ienzo was sure he could revert his magic on it now; he was no longer a greenhorn, after all, and had long since mastered his gifts. It stood to reason he had the power. But power was nothing without will or resolve, and sadly, he was not skilled enough in his craft to be able to place those illusions on his heart.

So he covered it with a tarp instead. Like a child, trying to hide broken glass from a parent. He glanced down at his reflection in his coffee, mug clenched tightly between his hands, and suddenly, he felt so very, very small.

A hand fell on his shoulder, and Ienzo jumped slightly from surprise. Even’s grip on him was firm, and a bit cold physically, as was natural of him, but the look in his eyes was gentle, and understanding. Perhaps even, if Ienzo was seeing things correctly, the slightest bit sad.

“You needn’t worry so much.” Even’s voice, too, sounded so… soft. Soft, and laced with the most distant traces of guilt and heartache. “Not that your worries are inconsequential or irrational, of course. Rather… you’re alright, and ultimately, that is what matters. It isn’t something you need to work yourself into an early grave over.”

Ienzo, still shaken from his earlier anxiety, paused to let the words sink in, before finally letting his emotions settle on a short sigh, and a wry smile. “It’s perhaps a bit too late for that hyperbole, isn’t it?”

“You stop that, Ienzo.” The hand on his shoulder was quick to turn into a finger pointed in his face, the command sharp in the way Even’s reprimands always did, melting away as soon as it came. Ah, that was more like the Even he knew, forever with a word or two against Ienzo’s smart mouth. “Our circumstances notwithstanding, but we’ll get nothing done feeling sorry for ourselves.”

“With all due respect,” Again, Ienzo’s voice came out dry. “It’s arguably better to feel sorry, as opposed to nothing at all.”

If it were Vexen, Vexen would have sputtered, agog, aghast at his ward’s rebuttal, and gone on ad-infinitum to assert himself; Ienzo remembered that well, and also that Zexion found such banter between the two of them more enjoyable than he probably should have. Even though, ever more composed now whole, gaped for but a moment, before shaking his head, smiling despite himself. 

“Clever boy. I’ll concede to that.”

“I thought you might.” Unlike Vexen, Even could accept defeat with a tad more grace. “Though I also suppose all we did then was feel sorry for ourselves, however detached it may have been.”

“It was rather hasty of us to take “no heart” at face value.” Even spoke in a tired mumble, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Five of Radiant Garden’s leading researchers, and not one of us raised a brow over our condition. It’s very telling of Xehanort’s prowess for manipulation, if nothing else.”

“How do you suppose he managed to do it, exactly?” It was a question he hadn’t planned on asking, but now that Even brought it up himself, Ienzo couldn’t help himself. “As you said, it’s strange that none of us ever asked questions about it.”

The thought crossed his mind that perhaps Braig never needed to ask questions in the first place, but he pushed that thought away as quickly as it came.

“I would assume,” Even didn’t seem to notice his brief contemplation, and answered, “that Xehanort took our early stages of only base coherency as Nobodies as an advantage. We’ve seen it plenty of times on others, what blank slates a newly born Nobody is. Come in at the right time, and you can condition someone to believe anything.”

Even paused a moment, taking another sip of coffee, then continued, “I considered it once, when Namine became a factor, that a heart’s true form lay within memories--and again, we saw it happen with Sora in real time. Alter a memory or two, and the person you are now could change entirely as a result. But even then, it was never more than a fleeting possibility, and I never dared to question it further. That, too, I believe, is proof enough of the trick.”

“I agree, it is odd; it isn’t like you to just drop a hypothesis like that.” Even was, with certainty, the most persistent of the apprentices in his studies, and Vexen had only been more so. Biased as the proposition was, it was sound. “But how would Xehanort have conditioned us so? He wouldn’t have had the time.”

“On the contrary. As the one who actually turned us all, comparatively, he had all the time in the world.”

Even’s voice sounded so distant, yet bitter, and his eyes were off looking somewhere far, far away from the castle kitchen, as he said, “ _Someone_ had to be coherent in order to exile His Lordship, after all.”

Something about that sentence gave Ienzo pause, and then all at once, the realization hit him. For ten long years, it was a truth they’d all accepted without much thought: Ansem the Wise’s six beloved apprentices, turning coat and banishing their teacher to the darkness. It was a fact of the situation, and their mutual sin to bear. And perhaps, at the time, Ienzo just attributed it all to being young, but with Even’s theory at hand…

“Even,” He heard himself say, before he could stop himself, “do _you_ remember sending Master Ansem away?”

“As a matter of fact, I do not.” Even was confident in his answer, as though he’d been mulling over it for much longer than Ienzo could imagine. “By the time I fully came to--as Vexen, mind you--he was already gone, and all of us were just going through the motions. Our behaviors and beliefs for the next decade were already ingrained in us. Brick roads laid out from the start.”

The room went silent while Ienzo processed the proposition. His leg bounced quietly under the table, hopefully hidden from Even’s eyes. “...when you say ‘us’--does that include Master Ansem, as well?”

Even exhaled heavy once more. His shoulders seemed to sink along with his breath, and he ran a hand through his hair, as though trying to stave off having to confirm the obvious answer.

“...In order for the ruse of a Nobody’s perpetual state of incompletion to work, particularly with the subjects used as the control and their environment… a state of newly formed incompletion had to be witnessed by an outsider. So that the assertion that a Nobody was, in fact, a lifeless husk, could not be disputed. Master Ansem was banished sometime between us being turned, and sometime between us coming to a sense of self-awareness. Without having the memory ourselves, I can only hypothesize on what he saw in all of us then, but…”

Even trailed off, but the implication was plain as day. “While his path of revenge was wrong, and wronged many, I can’t say I don’t understand how he reached that point.”

“Right.” Ienzo said, a little too quickly, a little too quietly, “Of course.”

He clutched his mug in his hand like a vice grip, and on reflex brought it to his mouth, and chugged whatever coffee remained. 

It burned his throat, and he coughed when he came back for air, but it was numbing. Ienzo couldn’t bring himself to care about the scalding of his tongue. It was simply another reminder now that he was alive, and was feeling, because he’d seen what Ansem saw all those years ago. He’d seen the soulless eyes of a newborn Nobody, seen a shell of a human that could only do as it was told. He’d seen it on Demyx, on Luxord, on Marluxia and Larxene and Roxas, so many times, over and over, again and again and again--and Zexion had never had any reaction to them. 

And why would he have? Blindly following orders, until they were the ones to blindly give orders, and so on and so forth--what was happening to them was all they knew. It was unnatural, but natural all at once. The perfect deception before he’d even recognized his own talents in creating deceptions, and for ten years, he’d sacrificed his childhood to a delusion he’d never known he was in.

The thought made his stomach churn.

“Ienzo--”

“They were just _words_.” Ienzo cut in, disbelieving of himself. Even’s voice sounded even further away now, drowned out by the sound of Ienzo’s heart beating rapid-fire in his ear. “Empty syllables, carried on whispers. That’s all they were. They said much, and meant nothing, just like every other illusion.” 

Xehanort had always taken interest in his powers as a child. Had he done all that on purpose? To see what he was possible of? To learn from that, and devise the one thing he wouldn’t question, to prevent Ienzo from seeing through the trick? 

‘The Cloaked Schemer’, Xemnas had dubbed him. A title meant to lift Zexion’s ego, and leave him confident, deemed unparalleled in his abilities. Empty praise, artfully placed onto a child, to keep him quiet, and complacent. And it worked.

Ienzo let his head fall into his hands. He felt dizzy, short of breath, unable to swallow. One insignificant ripple in an ocean far beyond his comprehension.

“How did I--how could I not _see_ that?”

And then he felt Even’s hand on his ear. And then that hand tugged hard.

Ienzo yelped; whether it was from the cold of Even’s skin or the force of the tug, he didn’t know, but it was enough of a distraction to pull him out of the throes of despair somewhat. His heart still pounded, and his mouth was still dry, but the room wasn’t spinning anymore. Ienzo was back on earth, and face-to-face with his guardian, who was looking at him not without sympathy, but also with the logic that was eluding Ienzo now.

He blinked. “E… Even?”

“Calm yourself, child.” Another command. Given the circumstances, Ienzo didn’t feel like correcting him on his age this time. “What you’re thinking now is nothing the rest of us haven’t dwelled over ourselves. You are not the only one at fault here. This is a cross we all have to carry.”

“But for me to only notice just _now_?” Ienzo retorted. “It doesn’t… there’s no excusing that, Even. I had so long to notice something was amiss--anything at all! It just doesn’t add up.”

“Hm. Doesn't it, though?”

A part of Ienzo almost wished it was Vexen speaking to him here. If nothing else, Vexen might at least reprimand him for his lacking observations, even if they were both guilty of the same crime. Ienzo wasn’t sure he could handle such understanding from Even right now, but unfortunately for him, it was all Even continued to offer.

“There’s a pivotal difference here, Ienzo, between you, and the four of us.” It was hard to discern any obvious emotion in Even’s voice, but he was clearly troubled. Less at Ienzo, and more at himself. “You were… and frankly, still are, the future of this world. We were supposed to be the ones who would guide you and your heart to that future, and instead, we led you astray. Irrevocably, I might add.”

Something in Even’s scent stilled his breath. It was far too similar to how it was before, when he was still bedridden. Wildly fluctuating. Unstable. And it was only then that Ienzo realized that Even truly was just as shaken by these revelations as he was. Perhaps, even more so. He was just better at hiding it.

“If you truly believe that you should have seen through Xehanort’s lies all those years ago, then the fault for that is on our heads, not yours. Your only crime is that you were a child that wanted to learn.”

He said it with such firmness and with such sorrow, Ienzo didn’t think he could argue it if he tried. As much as he tried to not let his age excuse everything, it was the only thing that made sense. Children were simple, one-track in their thinking, and while his memories of his youth were scattered and repressed in places, one thing was still true: Even wouldn’t lie to him. If Even told him learning was his only reason, then that was the only reason. If Even told him he was not at fault, then no matter what his mind told him, he was not at fault. It set Ienzo’s heart at ease.

Of course, all of that didn’t mean Even had to put himself down to make it true.

“...’Irrevocably’ might be bit too harsh, don’t you think?” Ienzo wasn’t used to seeing Even be so self-reflective, so remorseful, so… apologetic. He wasn’t sure he liked it. “You said it yourself, more or less, that we’re all bearing the same sin. And isn’t our being here again proof of that hope, in and of itself?”

Even snorted into his mug. “A normal childhood certainly couldn’t have hurt you.”

“I was to grow up in a castle, raised by a group of researchers.” He meant to say that with a bit more bite, alongside the humor, but even Ienzo couldn’t hope to hide the fondness in his voice. “My childhood stopped being normal long before we did anything morally repugnant.”

“Hm… I suppose so.”

Even paused for a moment, mug still at his lips, as though contemplating his movements--then placed his free hand atop Ienzo’s head.

He made no move to ruffle his hair, like Dilan or Braig would have done, but patted his crown once, and left his hand there like a weight. Confused, Ienzo let it happen; it pushed his gaze downward slightly, but Even made no sound, no sign of pulling back. It felt strangely intimate for reasons he couldn’t quite place. “Even?”

“Conscience is a burden.” Even said at last, and when Ienzo glanced up through his bangs, he saw that it was with a tired, fond smile. “But all worthwhile gifts have their price.”

Ienzo opened his mouth to speak, to clarify if that double meaning he heard was truly there, but decided against it, and closed his eyes once more. The hand on his head was a welcome weight, and as his heartbeat began to still, he sighed, at peace, and smiled.

If there was a secret hidden in Even’s words there, it was one he could afford to keep hidden.

~

Outside the room, on the other side of the open doorway, out of sight, Demyx waited, and he listened.

It was so weird, looking in on the room like this. Had Vexen ever been so gentle, or wise before? Had Zexion ever broken down, or smiled like that? He couldn’t think of a time for any of those things, and it only made what he had been sent to do all the more reproachful.

When first given this assignment, he thought it’d been a boon. Sure, he didn’t want to do it--who would want to be the one to blame for this dirty work?--but it wasn’t combat, so it should have been… not _okay_ , but not… _this_. 

The first Organization may not have been model citizens, but they hadn’t been this bad.

He’d been waiting for a chance to cut in, but every passing second watching the two of them talk only made it harder and harder; he regretted not stepping in and getting this over with before Ienzo entered the kitchen, but that was his problem. There would be other, safer times, he supposed. A castle this big was going to have plenty of dark corridors he could follow a white coat into, and whisk them away without much thought. He had… some semblance of time on his side for this task.

Not that it made it any easier. Maybe Xehanort had a hold over Demyx now, but not even that hold could change the way his chest tightened and twisted, watching Ienzo and Even air their grievances to one of the few people who could understand them.

“...I can give them a little longer.” He muttered, and ducked into a different hallway, giving father and son one more hurrah.

**Author's Note:**

> hello i'm panda and my kh tumblr is freezeprides, come cry about the apprentices with me


End file.
